ON leaving the Cardinal I repaired to my lodging, which was three miles
distant, in company with a secretary of the Cardinal returning to the
same quarters. On the road, this man never stopped asking me what I
meant to do with myself, and what my own terms regarding the appointment
would have been. I gave him only one word back for answer which was
that--I knew all. When we came to our quarters, I found Pagolo and
Ascanio there; and seeing me much troubled, they implored me to tell
them what was the matter. To the poor young men, who were all dismayed,
I said for answer: “To-morrow I shall give you money amply sufficient
for your journey home. I mean myself to go about a most important
business without you, which for a long time I have had it in my mind to
do.” Our room adjoined that of the secretary; and I think it not
improbable that he wrote to the Cardinal, and informed him of my
purpose. However, I never knew anything for certain about this. The
night passed without sleep, and I kept wearying for the day, in order to
carry out my resolution.
No sooner did it dawn than I ordered out the horses, made my
preparations in a moment, and gave the two young men everything which I
had brought with me, and fifty ducats of gold in addition. I reserved
the same sum for myself, together with the diamond the Duke had given
me; I only kept two shirts and some well-worn riding-clothes which I had
upon my back. I found it almost impossible to get free of the two young
men, who insisted upon going with me, whatever happened. At last I was
obliged to treat them with contempt, and use this language: “One of you
has his first beard, and the other is just getting it; and both of you
have learned as much from me as I could teach in my poor art, so that
you are now the first craftsmen among the youths of Italy. Are you not
ashamed to have no courage to quit this go-cart, but must always creep
about in leading-strings? The thing is too disgraceful! Or if I were to
send you away without money, what would you say then? Come, take
yourselves out of my sight, and may God bless you a thousand times.
Farewell!”
I turned my horse and left them weeping. Then I took my way along a very
fair road through a forest, hoping to make at least forty miles that
day, and reach the most out-of-the-way place I could. I had already
ridden about two miles, and during that short time had resolved never to
revisit any of those parts where I was known. I also determined to
abandon my art so soon as I had made a Christ three cubits in height,
reproducing, so far as I was able, that infinite beauty which He had
Himself revealed to me. So then, being thoroughly resolved, I turned my
face toward the Holy Sepulchre. [1] Just when I thought I had got so far
that nobody could find me, I heard horses galloping after. They filled
me with some uneasiness, because that district is infested with a race
of brigands, who bear the name of Venturers, and are apt to murder men
upon the road. Though numbers of them are hanged every day, it seems as
though they did not care. However, when the riders approached, I found
they were a messenger from the King and my lad Ascanio. The former came
up to me and said: “From the King I order you to come immediately to his
presence.” I replied: “You have been sent by the Cardinal, and for this
reason I will not come.” The man said that since gentle usage would not
bring me, he had authority to raise the folk, and they would take me
bound hand and foot like a prisoner. Ascanio, for his part, did all he
could to persuade me, reminding me that when the King sent a man to
prison, he kept him there five years at least before he let him out
again. This word about the prison, when I remembered what I had endured
in Rome, struck such terror into me, that I wheeled my horse round
briskly and followed the King’s messenger. He kept perpetually
chattering in French through all our journey, up to the very precincts
of the court, at one time bullying, now saying one thing, then another,
till I felt inclined to deny God and the world.
Note 1. See above, p. 240, for Cellini’s vow in the Castle of S. Angelo.